


These Sporting Events My Boyfriend Insists on Taking Me To

by DoubleL27



Series: Just Play AU [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boyfriends, Curling, Established Relationship, M/M, SC Sports Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: “Umm, what are those and why are they assaulting my eyes at this ungodly hour?”“Curling pants,” Patrick tells him, pressing a kiss to David’s temple, “and it’s seven-thirty.”“Curling pants?” David asks, as he blinks at his boyfriend, who joined a league of yet another sporting event about a month ago.“For the bonspiel, today.”“That’s today?”OR the Curling Sequel to the Kiss Cam AU
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Just Play AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847389
Comments: 36
Kudos: 96
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	These Sporting Events My Boyfriend Insists on Taking Me To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [houdini74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/gifts), [MapleLeafSquareRoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLeafSquareRoot/gifts), [missgeevious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgeevious/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> These sports require freezing temperatures or refrigerated buildings to compete in. Curling, Skiing (all varieties), snowboarding (all varieties), skating (speed and figure - individual and pairs), bobsleigh, luge, skeleton, snowball fights? 
> 
> Your submission for this prompt can be fully in an Alternate Universe, just canon divergent or fully canon compliant. For example:
> 
> _Patrick and Ronnie's sports feud seeps into their respective curling teams in the winter?_
> 
> _Alexis and David Rose - figure skaters as groomed by Moira Rose who are heading to the Olympics?_
> 
> _A ski trip for our Schitt's Creek friends?_
> 
> Go wild with all the options available to you.
> 
> Major thanks to my beta, RQ, for making this work the wonderful work it is. 
> 
> This is dedicated to houdini74, MapleLeafSquareRoot and Missgeevious for their willing a sequel to Kiss Cam AU into existence from the power of their minds alone. Additional special thanks to houdini74 for the movie recommendations and insider info that made this fic what it is today.
> 
> Please note the extreme anonymity of this fic and proceed accordingly.
> 
> For help following along, please check the end notes

His mother always liked to say, “Commence as you envisage proceeding.” Trouble was, when your first week of dating someone involved their team winning some kind of major sports championship, the door to sports had been kept wide open and the horse had long since left the barn. Dating a man who worked for The Toronto Blue Jays also suggested sports might be important, but one would think an accountant would be busy with budgets and salaries and taxes enough to not have a million different recreational sport leagues to participate in his spare time. 

Six months into dating, David has already gotten through the end of baseball season, with lovely boyfriend-of-the-star-player outfits and sunglasses, the summer hockey league with the need for long underwear under his sweaters, and was introduced to winter hockey league, which is entirely the same except for repeated protests that it’s different. It’s far too early one Saturday morning when David is woken by his boyfriend making far too much noise in David’s bedroom. He cracks an eye and is nearly blinded by the pants covering his boyfriend’s lovely ass. 

The offending pants in question are bright purple, red and silver zig zags running on the bias, each outlined in thin black lines. David props himself up on an elbow, blinking rapidly, but the zig zag pattern is stamped on the inside of his eyelids. 

“Umm, what are those and why are they assaulting my eyes at this ungodly hour?”

“Curling pants,” Patrick tells him, pressing a kiss to David’s temple, “and it’s seven-thirty.”

“Curling pants?” David asks, as he blinks at his boyfriend, who joined a league of yet another sporting event about a month ago. 

“For the bonspiel, today.”

“That’s today?”

“Yes. It’s okay, David,” Patrick says, patting David’s shoulder and David drops his face into the pillow. “you don’t have to get up. I’m just heading over to the rink early to meet with the team, check in for the Bonspiel and get set up for the first draw. You just have to get down there by ten.”

“Ten?”

“Yes. That’s when the morning match starts.”

“Morning match?”

He’s being a pest, but Patrick doesn’t seem to care. He presses a kiss to David’s lips before pressing a second one to his forehead. “Go back to sleep, David. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

It is two hours later when David arrives in the kitchen after completing his morning routine and putting on his cutest spectator outfit for inside of curling rinks, whatever the hell that look means, but to David it means an Alexander McQueen bomber jacket and black Jill Sanders Cropped Pants. David will complete the look with a solid pair of Rick Owens Boots before he leaves the house. The smell of coffee is present, meaning Patrick set up the pot even though he doesn’t drink it. Sadly, David’s coffee has been absconded with by the worst of fiends.

His sister narrows her eyes in greeting, face scrunching into a smile, while both her hands remain around her coffee cup. “Morning, David. I left you a little of the coffee that Patrick made. He’s such a sweetie.”

David stalked to the cupboard and ripped it open, taking down his favorite mug. “Who said you can drink the coffee my boyfriend makes for me?”

“ _Patrick,_ ” Alexis shoots back, taking a sip of her coffee and giving him a glare. “I’m very excited to go to this little match-thingy of his.”

David places the mug down on the counter and pours what is left of his coffee into the cup. Suspiciously, there’s not enough to face what he’s been tasked with today. He narrows his eyes at the thief he lives with. “Yes. Sports performances are the best performances.”

“Oh my god, _David_ , could you try and pretend to be _at least_ a little excited? You’re going to support Patrick and he left us these sweet little pages with all the terms they use for the curling and he _laminated_ them.” Alexis strokes a hand down the pages on the island. “It’s _so_ precious.”

“Umm, we will _not_ be bringing those. I already told him.”

David has to draw the line somewhere. He fully understands considering they started dating with sports events, he cannot avoid them, but he will not be learning about them in depth. Curling may be the pride of Canada, but as it merges sports with doing your own chores and the cold, David has no need for it.

Alexis perches her hands on top of the pages like she’s fake typing, if she didn’t know how to type. David isn’t certain she does. “Don’t be silly, David. We should at least know what’s happening. You never know how handy it is knowing how to talk like this. You’re already dating a player. Knowing the words can get you laid. Like, one time with A-Rod—“

“Umm, no.” David interrupts, waving his hands because there is no way he is listening to a skeevy story with A-Rod. “Why are you even coming, anyway?”

Alexis’s frown is deep, which only makes David narrow his eyes at his sister. “Uh, David, I am coming along to support _you_ , as Stevie said she would not hold your hand through this event. We all know how you feel about athletic pursuits.”

“I work out...occasionally.”

Alexis sniffs, and lifts her hands to pull up on the collar of her parka. “Also, it’s an all men’s tournament and this Isabella Marant parka hasn’t gotten enough action since we stopped doing our winter Alps tours on the regular.”

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexis waves her hands questioningly “What, David?”

“This isn’t just a fun time for you to pick up boys. My boyfriend actually expects me to, you know,” David searched for the word, waving with his coffee cup when he found it, “applaud for him.”

Alexis slides the laminated sheets off of the table and taps them twice. “And so we will. Just going to tuck these in my Birkin.”

“Fine! But you will not embarrass me,” he hisses at her.

Alexis rolls her eyes and flicks her hair. “Oh, like I would ever be the embarrassment, David.”

“Get stabbed by an icicle, Alexis!”

“David?” She waits until he looks at her and then she points with one finger, wigging it in a circular motion by his chin. “You’ve got a thing on your face right there.” She pulls her lips into a deep cringe, eyes wide. 

“Uggghhh!!!”

David stalks off to the bathroom to check his face. Unsurprisingly, there isn’t anything on his face. He rewashes his face though and goes through an additional face routine just to be sure. 

By the time he and Alexis pull up to the venue, most of the spots are full. David grumbles about Alexis’s need to check herself in the mirror five times and she shouts back in retort over how long it takes him to lace up his Rick Owens. Either way, they’re in the furthest corner of the parking lot. Alexis picks her way across the icy lot on Chloe stiletto booties like an overly-dressed mountain goat, insisting he hurry up. 

They make it inside the musty building and are directed by a hastily drawn paper sign with a crooked arrow, to head up stairs for “spectators.” Alexis squeals, and trips up the stairs, waving him on. She really needs to get out of the house more, David thinks as he trudges up the orange carpeted stairs. 

The stairs lead to an open observation deck, a lofted bar area that has a plexiglass window to the left, through which you can see the rink. The room opens wide with more of the hideous orange carpet flowing under tables until it hits the bar counter. The musty smell is now sweetened by the yeasty smell of beer and other malted liquors that have clearly embedded themselves in the floor. Wonderful. 

The wall is covered with pictures, various equipment, like brooms and weird handles over the wooden panels. There are shelves with trophies lining the wall. Neon signs blink near the bar. This isn’t a cute New York City dive. This rink is a true dive and David will need at least five showers when he gets home.

David gets two strides away from the stairs before pulling to a stop upon spotting Alexis, pulling off his sunglasses and waving them at the woman Alexis has glommed onto. David frowns as he approaches his supposed-best-friend. “Uhh, I thought that you were _unable to attend this event_ despite the requirements as my best friend to be supportive.” He ends with a head tilt and carefully drawn together lips while he waits for whatever explanation Stevie has for him.

Stevie tilts her head in return, mirroring him, lips kept flat. “I said I would not be attending this event with _you_ to watch Patrick. I did however say yes to attending this event with my _girlfriend_ ,” Stevie pulls a thumb towards the bar where he assumes Rachel is, “so I could watch _you_ watch Patrick play a game you know nothing about.”

“Mmmmm.”

“It’s gonna be _fun._ ” Stevie’s eyes widen at the last word in a way that lets David know he’s not only going to have to sit through watching his boyfriend perform, but also be harassed about it all day.

Alexis squeals, and hits Stevie and turns back to staring out the Plexiglass divider to the men on the ice below. “Stevie! Oh, my god, aren’t their pants super cute?”

Stevie glances down and David cringes at the zigzag pants he can see from halfway across the building and up a floor. Stevie sips her beer. “I mean, they certainly are _something_.”

“There’s some actual hotties here, David. Considering Patrick, that shouldn’t be a surprise,” she tells him, clearly stunned despite fully intending to come here for male attention.

David rolls his eyes at Stevie and then realizes she’s had a drink in her hand this whole time. “You have a beer. Where are the drinks? Are there snacks? I’m going to need snacks.”

“David!”

Hearing his voice in chorus, warm and excited, David turns to face the source. Marcy Brewer and Rachel cross the room to them, drinks in hand, both wearing red shirts emblazoned with Team Brewer in what appears to be vinyl cut-out letters with little curling stones underneath. Patrick is very fortunate to have a best friend like Rachel who will do stupid things for him that David refuses. David has a best friend like Stevie who also refuses to do stupid things.

Marcy comes up to him and passes him a cup before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. Patrick’s parents are so affectionate, and warm, in a way that his own mother has never been. Quarters got him physical touch as a child, and Marcy Brewer has been giving away hugs for free. “Hello, David, dear. I got you and your sister each a coffee this morning to start us off. Shall we head over to Sheet 1?”

David nods as if he knows what sheets they’re talking about. He was pretty certain it was played on ice not cloth. Marcy gives him an affectionate pat before handing off the other coffee to Alexis.

“I just love your shirts,” Alexis says, laying one hand on Marcy’s arm, while pointing back and forth at Marcy and Rachel with the coffee. She is clearly lying through her teeth, but shoots a glance at David. “Did you have them made?”

Marcy, bless her, looks at her shirt before smiling at Alexis. Stevie, the angel, palms David a nip of rum to put in his coffee. He may forgive her for lying to him about not being here. “Oh, my sisters and I have a little side business where we use a scrapbooking machine to make some things: shirts, mugs, and other things. We went in on it together. My sister, Emily, is a wiz at the vinyl cuts and applying them.”

“If only David had one, being Patrick’s boyfriend and all,” Stevie helps. David mentally revokes any forgiveness he may have given in his head.

“Oooh, yes,” Alexis squeals, grinning at David like a maniac.

David sends glares at his sister and best friend, but quickly changes his face to a smile for Marcy Brewer. She digs in her bag and David takes the opportunity to yell with his face at Stevie and Alexis. Rachel is no help as she hides a snicker behind her hands. “Oh, Patrick insisted I make one, actually. I didn’t think you’d like the bright colors, so I made it using mostly blacks and silvers.”

“Mmmmm,” David attempts a neutral face as he accepts the proffered clothing from her bag. 

David holds up the shirt, appreciating the soft fabric. It is more tasteful than the others, but only marginally so. The silver letters are still rounded and puffy like a middle school poster, and there are red and purple handles on the silver curling stones.  
“Oh my god! David!” Alexis slaps him on the shoulder, reveling in the cringe he’s desperately trying to hide. “You have to go put it on.”

“Yes, David, we’ll make sure you find your way back to us,” Stevie adds, nodding at him with the most neutral, hypothetically supportive face.

David glances around at this group of people who supposedly love him, or tolerate him, on any given day. He knows he and Alexis are wildly over-styled for this venue, but he wants to make an impression, for patrick. He gestures along his body as he tries to explain. “This outfit was very carefully planned for today. Things were selected specifically for this event.”

“There’s always another time, dear, like tomorrow,” Marcy comforts with another affectionate pat. Her words feel far too much like something Patrick would say. “Not to worry.”

 _FUCK!_ David tries to think of what sweater he can wear over the shirt and claim that the chill in the rink is just too much. “Thank you, Mrs. Brewer.”

“David, it’s Marcy. Please.”

“Mr.-Clint,” David corrects himself as Marcy gives him a look, “didn’t come?”

Marcy grins at him. “Oh, he’s the team coach. Patrick inherited his love of hockey and baseball from me, but curling is entirely his father’s sport.”

“I knew that. It’s just early.” David really needs to stop tuning out when the subject turns to sports. It’s just that when they go on about balls and sticks and points, David cannot stay focused. His mind drifts to things like art and fashion and what he’s going to eat or what he could be eating right at that moment.

They have drifted to a section of the plexiglass over the right hand corner of the ice. You can’t miss his boyfriend or his team. Patrick is not the only one in these monstrous zig zag pants, the rest of his team are also in them. How four perfectly attractive men found these pants to be a good idea? _Mostly attractive_. Gary would be attractive if he gained five inches of personality.

Alexis is peering down and then leans over and smacks him across the arm. “Oh my God! You didn’t tell me Patrick’s friends were so cute! Can we meet them?”

David has kept Alexis away from Patrick’s friends for the same reason you don’t drop a shark in a tank full of guppies. No one is prepared to handle Alexis. He shouldn’t have let her come.

“There’s usually a beer garden at the end of the evening,” Rachel adds, unhelpfully, as Alexis likes nothing better than a party. The way her eyes light up and her smile deepens just means David is in more trouble. 

Turning his attention back to the ice, Patrick is shaking hands with Ray, whom David will never forget from their first date. He supposes he owes them both for getting the stains out of his sweater. Moreso, the janitor from that first meeting is also on the team with Ray, and a man who has what is either mustard or cheese spilled down the front of his shirt. That you can spot it from the _second_ floor, is not comforting to David.

Marcy pats the seat next to her and David takes his cue. Thankfully, Stevie decides to be a halfway decent friend and sits on his other side with Rachel practically in her lap. Okay, Rachel is on her own seat but is pulled up close enough to Stevie that they’re practically on one seat.

The match begins and Derek is facing off against Dirty Shirt Man, and everyone seems very intent. David is unsure why one is so intent when faced with a frozen shuffleboard. Shuffleboard is largely for old people to yell at each other over. 

Dirty Shirt Man goes first, warming up with deep lunges that David did not need to see, mullet flapping with the motion. When he goes into a full lunge to send the stone spinning down the ice, he’s oddly graceful sliding along with it. The janitor from the Scotiabank Center runs just as awkwardly on ice as he did on cement, but surprisingly stays upright. Must be how used he is to sweeping.

“Clint will be so excited if we beat Ray’s team. That’s Roland Schitt, knuckleballer for the Blue Jays.”

David peers down at Dirty Shirt Man and remembers Ray going on about two dirty shirts and needing another one when he took David’s sweater. 

“Huh.” He replies to Marcy. “Doesn’t Ray work for him? Also, is this a work league?”

“I think Ray likes to boss Roland around,” March confides, arm on David’s as she leans in. “And no, although Gary is an administrative assistant in Patrick’s office.”

David does know that. Gary is an office assistant slash amateur DJ who made David’s ears bleed with the time he took over the Bluetooth speaker at Patrick’s. 

Derek takes his turn and is even more graceful than Roland and a dream to watch. Ted and Gary take off running.

Patrick is at the far end keeps yelling things like hurry hard, and on and off. It all sounds incredibly like Patrick’s commanding voice in the bedroom, which is unacceptable for this ungodly hour of a Saturday if they’re not actually in bed. David finds himself blushing in front of Patrick’s mom, and best friend, thinking about how exactly those words in that tone apply to not-sports. David Rose hasn’t blushed in years and how this mostly mild-mannered accountant he calls his boyfriend manages to make him blush regularly, David will never know. 

He’s also walking around tapping the ice and stones, doing the same thing over and over, and it’s just weird but everyone seems to accept it as normal. After a lot of this sexual yelling and people sliding around, Patrick has switched sides of the ice and David now has a very nice view of his hideously clad ass.

“Oh, I’m so glad Patrick will be throwing the hammer. He’s very good at it,” Marcy confides in him as if he understands. 

David glances at Marcy. Her face gives him no hints, so David squints at the game below. He does not need glasses. Squinting works just fine. “The hammer? I thought they were stones. Are they throwing hammers at the end? Like a finale?”

Alexis shakes the laminated sheet of curling rules that is now fully out of her purse, at his face. “David, it says here that the hammer is the last stone of the end.”

“The end!?” _Thank god!_ David stands and claps brightly. “You’ve got this, honey!”

His loudness is contrasted with the level of steady calm Patrick portrays on the ice, although David can see how tight his shoulders are pulled together. Now Ted is on the other end tapping things. Patrick ends up in a deep lunge, which would really show off his ass if he were in anything other than brightly zig-zagged pants. 

“That’s a high level of flexibility right there,” Stevie leans over and whispers.

David shoots her a death glare, because Marcy Brewer is sitting right there and David is fairly certain that she thinks her son hung the moon. David thinks that as well, and that, his high level of flexibility definitely does come in handy. He just doesn’t need Patrick’s mom knowing _how_ handy.

“So, who won?” David asks as Patrick and Ray meander among the stones, kicking them to the side, and tapping at them with brooms.

“Our team took three points for that end,” Rachel says.

“So they won?” David asks.

Rachel shakes her head. “No, that was just the first end.”

“But it was _the_ end,” David repeats, blinking at her.

“Da-vid,” Alexis chimes in, waving the stupid laminated sheets she wouldn’t leave at home, “it says here that the end is part of a match. It’s like a set in tennis.”

David throws his hands up in the air because Alexis is practically useless. That fact gave him no actual help for assessing the length of a match. “Well, how many ends are in a match?”

Alexis looks down at her sheet to consult before looking up at him with wide eyes. “Eight.”

“ _Fuck_.” David closes his eyes against the realization that this isn’t even close to over. The majority of it is still left to go. “Okay, snacks.”

David pulls Stevie up by the arm and she only yelps softly, which David takes as a win. “Unhand me.”

David rolls his eyes and heads across the room, pretending not to see the “Unhand you? Have you been spending time with my mother? Also, we are in dire need of sustenance if we’re going to survive seven more rounds of that.”

“I would just like more beer,” Stevie huffs. 

David pauses, suddenly quite worried. “Do they have more than beer?”

“Yes, David.”

“Thank god.” David breathes a sigh of relief as he begins marching Stevie across the hideous orange sea of carpet, past the array of brooms and photographs of men holding brooms that are meant to be decor. 

“Also, you should know, we have seven more rounds of this match, then there’s a drinking break, then we have another match, followed by another drinking break, and another match. So that’s like, 23 more of these.”

She sounds particularly pleased with herself which David just cannot have. 

“Fuck, Stevie! This is all your fault.”

“My fault,” Stevie scoffs.

“You _had_ to drag me along to your first date at a _sporting_ event, so now I’m _forced_ to go to sporting events because I cannot argue that I _do not_ go to sporting events!”

____“That sounds like a you problem. You could just tell him you don’t want to be here.”_ _ _ _

____David shoots an acid look over his shoulder before turning back to the garish backlit marquee that proclaims Pepsi across the top and has awful block lettering to list out the prices for the concessions. In addition to the neon Molson sign there’s a neon Unibroue sign. The rink owners must imagine themselves to be fancy._ _ _ _

____On the edge of the bar is a rotating convenience store hotdog machine, a pretzel rotisserie like the mall, a popcorn popper and what David imagines is a solid half centimeter of grime. Behind the bar sits a machine decked out in the primariest of primary colors adorned with a dog that looks like a mutated adult version of the 101 Dalmations. It would be a travesty, if not for the frozen liquid swirling around inside. “What is that?”_ _ _ _

____“You’ve _never_ had a Slush Puppie?”_ _ _ _

____“ _No._ ”_ _ _ _

____Stevie leans up on the bar, which David would have not recommended based on how rickety it looks. She yells at the kid behind the counter. “Hey, he needs a blue raspberry Slush Puppie with a side shot of vodka, and I could use two draughts of Molsons. Thanks.”_ _ _ _

____“Umm, and I am going to get one of those pretzels.” David sucks on his lip for just a moment before deciding, “And a popcorn.” Today is going to be a long day; he’s going to eat._ _ _ _

____“Popcorn is free,” the teen behind the counter mumbles. “Just scoop it out yourself.”_ _ _ _

____David recoils at the thought of how many people have put their hands in the popcorn machine. Looking around this room, none of them can be trusted to wash their hands. “That’s terribly unhygienic.”_ _ _ _

____He gapes at Stevie who just casually slaps him on the arm. “Mix the vodka into the slush puppy. It’ll be perfect.”_ _ _ _

____“To solve the hygiene problem?” David asks, skeptical._ _ _ _

____“To get you to relax,” Stevie fires back._ _ _ _

____—_ _ _ _

____Somehow they make it through a series of ends that leads to the _actual end_ , and the many teams pound up the stairs and into the bar. Patrick weaves his way over to their post. He’s greeted like a hero and he smiles, but David can tell he’s not fully there as his gaze keeps going blank. _ _ _ _

____David leans in, pressing a kiss into Patrick’s temple. He whispers. “What’s wrong?”_ _ _ _

____Patrick gives him an easy shrug. “I’ve got to buy Ray’s rink’s drinks and then I’m going to consult my book and see which stones they used on sheet one. ”_ _ _ _

____David tilts his head and pumps his hands over the general floor area. “Okay, we are _in_ a rink, it _cannot_ drink.”_ _ _ _

____“Nice rhyme, bud,” Ted says, passing by with two drinks, one of which looks like it’s a particularly flat champagne. David swivels, distracted._ _ _ _

____David has yet to understand Ted’s mix of corny dad jokes and surfer jargon, despite never traveling further than Chicago. He’s weaving his way toward where Alexis is trying to get away from Gary. Alexis is edging away along the wall, while Gary keeps glued to Alexis’s shoulder, chattering at her like a particularly annoying chipmunk. It’s good, David thinks, that Alexis is getting a taste of her own medicine._ _ _ _

____Patrick smiles at him. It’s the _I know more than you smile_. It shouldn’t turn him on but it always does. “The teams are called rinks.”_ _ _ _

____David frowns in response. “The building is called a rink.”_ _ _ _

____“Yup. Both are rinks. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a handle on the stones on sheet one,” Patrick pivots the conversation sharply, clearly still preoccupied. “Which means my favorite stone at this rink is still out there.”_ _ _ _

____“Do we think that calling both the place and the people rinks is a bit confusing?” David asks, expecting nothing less than utter agreement._ _ _ _

____Patrick presses a kiss to his lips, brought back from his thoughts. “People figure it out. Are you having fun?”_ _ _ _

____He attempts a smile but David is fairly sure it’s unsuccessful. The smile is sucked back in over his teeth. David corrects by nodding wildly, his hands moving over Patrick’s shoulders. “Mmmm. Mmmhmm. Yup. Your mom gave me a shirt but I don’t _have_ to use it until tomorrow.”_ _ _ _

____Patrick is grinning at him, the troll. He asked for the shirt. “Excellent. And thank you,” Patrick says, his eyes getting serious. “It means a lot to me that you’re here.”_ _ _ _

____Something in his chest stutters and swells at the look in Patrick’s eyes. No one has ever looked at him like this, except Patrick on a few occasions. David waves as if it’s nothing, but a smile starts to creep up on the left side of his face. “I suppose it’s important to see my boyfriend be the frozen shuffleboard champion of the world.”_ _ _ _

____“Okay, it’s called curling and this isn’t a championship. This is just like a regular, fun time.”_ _ _ _

_____So fun._ “I can see that.” David manages a smirk, which is close to a smile, and shoos Patrick. “Go, go buy the drinks for Ray and figure out whatever it is you need to figure out.”_ _ _ _

____Patrick drifts away, voices calling him to the bar. David takes a minute to look around. Stevie and Rachel are cuddled up on one chair, with Rachel in Stevie’s lap. Alexis is surrounded by a collection of men. Marcy is busy talking to Clint. He’s out of people to talk because David is definitely not connecting with strangers right now. Stevie and Rachel are his easiest mark. He heads over, figuring he can bother Rachel for facts on the best options for food here._ _ _ _

____After a lunch of over-rotated hot dogs and microwaved chicken tenders— where Patrick poured over his book of notes with his dad and Ted, while Alexis flitted amongst the men, still avoiding Gary after he’d cornered her once— the next match was due to start. The lovely encampment at sheet one had been forced to debark for sheet two, which meant being in the middle instead of tucked into a corner. The smell of smoke clings to patrons who are still complaining about having to have a cigarette outside and long for the days when you could smoke inside. The smoke mingles with body odor and David would like to redecorate this whole place if he ever has to return._ _ _ _

____The team facing Patrick’s was on the dangerous side of elderly. One of the men came onto the sheet of ice using a walker. Another has a cane. This is what David expected from frozen shuffleboard. Still, there’s some heavy lunging that happens in this game, and running. These men don’t look like they can handle all that activity. Should be an easy win._ _ _ _

____“Are they going to be okay? The other team?” David whispers to Marcy. “Should they be on the ice at all?”_ _ _ _

____Marcy puts down her lunch beer and waves off David’s concern. “Oh they’ll be fine. Rink Currie was old when Clint was playing. Benny’s had the walker the last four years and Carl had the stroke two years ago. Doesn’t slow them any, though.”_ _ _ _

____“Mmm.”_ _ _ _

____This game is even slower with the first with all the careful shuffles across the ice. David is dying by inches. He may fall asleep. Falling asleep in public is definitely incorrect. How Patrick can expect him to do this again tomorrow, David has no idea. They do this once a month according to Patrick. He’s going to put his foot down. David has come. He has seen. He could still be asleep at home._ _ _ _

____Stevie must catch one of his head bobs and elbows him. David blinks, trying not to appear bleary-eyed. Rachel leans over Stevie, grinning. “Hey, you know, we can drink to make things more interesting.”_ _ _ _

____“Ummm, yes.” David turns a sleepy glare Stevie’s way. “If you knew about this and didn’t tell me earlier, we are no longer friends.”_ _ _ _

____Rachel lays out a series of rules that sounds like gibberish to David, however she reminds him of the rules like _We scored 3 points, three sips_ and _That stone is touching the button. Three sips._ They send Stevie up for a fresh round of drinks after three ends. David is really into these vodka slushies that Stevie has invented. They’re full of sugar and fit with his childlike palate._ _ _ _

____Rachel and Marcy both wince and groan on a stone that lands touching the bullseye, which is very confusing, because close to the center is good, just like in the archery class his mother made him take for an audition._ _ _ _

____“I thought that was good,” David asks bewildered._ _ _ _

____“They burned a rock.” Marcy leans forward, clearly concerned, watching Patrick. Her shoulders are tense and worried like Moira’s would have been during the Little Mister Pageant if she hadn’t been mad at him for Mario Lopez. “Touched off of Gary’s foot. Patrick has to call it.”_ _ _ _

____David looks around confused as Patrick raises his hand and calls over a mediator. “Burned?”_ _ _ _

____The wobbly sound of plastic paper comes to his ears as Alexis whips out the laminated rules sheet. He sets his teeth before he hears Alexis say, “David, it says here that burned means touched.”_ _ _ _

____“Lick a frozen pole, Alexis,” David snaps._ _ _ _

____“Drink up. Penalty for burned rocks is to finish your drink. Let’s go!” Stevie thumps him on the back as she swallows the rest of her beer._ _ _ _

____David sends her another acid look but gulps down his alcoholic slushie anyway because this game is the only thing that is saving him. He ends up with a solid wall of ice right behind his forehead. Stevie nips his empty cup from his hand and hopefully scurries off to the replace with something else. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping for relief from the freezing pain._ _ _ _

____Eventually they make it through the second match, and David is pleasantly buzzed after several contraband slushies as the different companies make their way up the stairs. Patrick’s brow is furrowed. They lost to the octogenarians. David is only slightly embarrassed to have a boyfriend lose to people that look like they shouldn’t be walking let alone playing sports._ _ _ _

____Marcy comforts Clint, who comes up grumbling about Benny’s tricks, with back rubs and the promise of food. Ted, Derek, and Gary beeline for the bar at the top of the stairs, heads hung low. David intercepts Patrick and uses his thumb to wipe away the forehead wrinkles that match his frown._ _ _ _

____David frowns himself as he keeps rubbing them. “Preoccupied Patrick. You’re going to get wrinkles.”_ _ _ _

____The wrinkles ease and Patrick’s right corner of his mouth lifts. “You're having fun.” Statement, not question._ _ _ _

____David leans in closer. He whispers, “Stevie, Rachel and I made up a game.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side and considers. He couldn’t actually repeat the rules if asked. “Rachel made up a game.”_ _ _ _

____Patrick pulls back slightly, and David feels disgruntled. Patrick’s smile deepens. “Does it involve drinking?”_ _ _ _

____“How did you know?” David gasps, reeling back._ _ _ _

____“Just a hunch.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you have time?” David asks, fiddling with the top button on Patrick’s Henley while his other hand slides down to cup Patrick’s ass._ _ _ _

____“People can see you, you know,” Patrick adds, his voice warm and round._ _ _ _

____“I want people to see how much I…” Words get confused in his head and he almost says something he never says out loud. David clamps his mouth shut and waits. Patrick raises his non-existent eyebrows. “I like you.”_ _ _ _

____“I like you, too.”_ _ _ _

____“Does the losing mean the old guys have to buy you drinks?” David asks._ _ _ _

____“Yes.”_ _ _ _

____“Will they buy _me_ drinks?” he tries, very hopeful. _ _ _ _

____Patrick tilts his head, mirroring David’s. “Haven’t you had enough?”_ _ _ _

____David walks his fingers down to the button of Patrick’s Henley and dips them underneath to play with the translucent hairs that live there. “Don’t we have to survive another match?”_ _ _ _

____Patrick presses a kiss to his lips and David deepens it, sliding his tongue between Patrick’s lips. “I’ll get you some water.”_ _ _ _

____—-_ _ _ _

____David’s first course for dinner is two sets of the pizza combo deals, which, really, works out but is merely an appetizer. The final match of the day begins after they shuffle down to watch from the area closest to the stairs. Stevie immediately stiffens when the lead curler of the other team goes out to shake Patrick’s hand. She sinks down lower in her chair. This is familiar. She avoided him with faces like this once upon a time._ _ _ _

____“Uh oh!” David whispers loudly, leaning into Stevie. “A former fuck buddy?”_ _ _ _

____Stevie shoots him a withering look before sniffing. “I may have made a series of mistakes that involved Emir. Those mistakes have been rectified.”_ _ _ _

____“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think he can see you. Plus, Rachel is way hotter.”_ _ _ _

____Alexis whacks him on the shoulder repeatedly from where she has snuck up behind him and David tries to catch her hand to make her stop. “David, that man looks like your doppelgänger!”_ _ _ _

____“What?” David peers down where Alexis is pointing. There’s a man in a discount jacket, his hair is graying and he has at least ten pounds on David. “He does not. My hair is definitely not going silver!”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, wow,” Rachel says, leaning toward the glass. “Alexis isn’t wrong. You do kind of look like Antonio.”_ _ _ _

____David refuses to look at the sheet of ice or the men assembled on it. Instead he sniffs at the women surrounding him. “First, his jacket is clearly of an extreme discount quality. Secondly, he has a severe case of resting bitch face.”_ _ _ _

____Stevie snorts into her beer. “As opposed to your mild case of resting bitch face.”_ _ _ _

____Slouching in his chair, David crosses his arms and sneers at Stevie. “My face contains multitudes.”_ _ _ _

____Rachel shrugs, utterly unbothered, and cups Stevie’s cheek. Stevie startles and it’s weird to see her vulnerable. “It’s fine that you dated Emir. Patrick dated Ken. I dated Patrick. You’ve fucked David. We’re all here, and we’re all fine.”_ _ _ _

____David has vaguely heard about the mysterious Ken who helped Patrick’s sexual awakening. He unfurls himself and gets closer to the glass. “Wait? Which one’s Ken? Is he the one in the cult tunic? He looks old enough to be a Ken.”_ _ _ _

____Rachel turns to look where David is pointing. “No, Ken’s the short one. That’s Citrus. Rumor has it that he’s part of some weird cult that involves stepping.”_ _ _ _

____“The dance?” David asks, bewildered._ _ _ _

____“No, the machines,” Rachel clarifies, grinning wolfishly._ _ _ _

____David turns away from the cult leader to find the “short one.” A very attractive, petite man with broad shoulders and deep golden brown skin pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It’s not a big deal, David reminds himself. They’re adults. They have pasts. Still, this team is David’s least favorite by far. Rooting for Patrick’s team against this band of villains, particularly Citrus who seems to think wide-weave linen is appropriate for a six foot tall blond man in Canada, is easy._ _ _ _

____Many rounds of eating, playing the drinking game, and curling later, Patrick manages to steal points without the hammer, which is somehow important, and they win. At least Rachel tells David that they won. That, and Marcy stands up clapping, withDavid rapidly following suit, knocking his chair backwards as he stands._ _ _ _

____“That’s my boyfriend! That’s my boyfriend!” he tells everyone and no one in particular._ _ _ _

____The next David knows, he’s swept along with the crowd out of the hideous hall and into an area of the parking lot that has been cordoned off. It’s brisk out in the October air, with no real heaters to speak of, but David is pleasantly warm from all the alcohol. Outside there’s just kegs of beer which are being emptied into cups and passed around. David takes one sip of the cup he is offered before he needs to get the taste out of his mouth and is pouring it out over the side of the barrier._ _ _ _

____In general, people are drinking and dancing and having a good time. When David finds his friends again, Stevie and Rachel are high as balls with one of Rachel’s friends, Twyla, who is sweet but tells the weirdest stories. Stevie even laughs as David points out one of her handy-buddies of the handymen she would call to the apartment building to fix things and then fuck later. Alexis is missing and the world is kind of spinny._ _ _ _

____Eventually he finds Patrick, whom David greets with a large kiss that _mostly_ hits the mark of his mouth. He pulls back to give his boyfriend an exaggerated pout. “They only have beer outside.”_ _ _ _

____“How about water?” Patrick asks._ _ _ _

____“I have to come back here tomorrow?”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t have to, David.”_ _ _ _

____David shakes his head, because Patrick looks sad and the last thing David wants is for Patrick to be sad. David tries to swim through the alcohol fog in his brain for words, petting Patrick the whole time. “No, it’s not that I _don’t_ want to. It’s just that I don’t _want_ to.”_ _ _ _

____“Mmm. David I brought you to the classiest of the rinks?”_ _ _ _

____“Would we call it _classy_ or _grimy_?”_ _ _ _

____“They serve _Unibroue_ , **and** have a sign for it.”_ _ _ _

____“Okay, so there’s a lot of things wrong with this place. Firstly, there's the smell. B, they serve drinks in these plastic cups.” David crinkles the empty one in his hand and it cracks. He shakes it at Patrick to prove his point. “ _Not sturdy_. Three, the smell is coming from the carpet, but also the COLOR.” David weaves closer to Patrick before leaning back, finger raised in the air, “is _also_ incorrect."_ _ _ _

____Patrick’s lips purse and David eyes him carefully. If he wants to laugh, Patrick doesn’t break. He just says, “What else?”_ _ _ _

____"Addit-tonally, I like the snacks, but there is not enough var-vari- choice," he settles on, unable to get the other word past his lips._ _ _ _

____Now Patrick does smile, and he tilts his head. “David, my mom said you had six slices of pizza. Do you really need more choice?”_ _ _ _

____David pats Patrick’s chest with a heavy hand. “It was _eight_ and I’m just_ saying _all_ they have is cheese and pepperoni.”_ _ _

___Patrick gives him a wide-eyed blink. “Pepperoni is your usual order.”_ _ _

___"There should be more choice, that’s all. Also, instead of the spinny hot-dogs, could they have pigs-in-a-pastry? Or empanadas?"_ _ _

___“Do you really trust the fourteen year old boy at concessions to make empanadas?”_ _ _

___David frowns. He hasn’t had a good handmade empanada since Buenos Aires. “Just the frozen ones. Or I would settle for Jamaican beef patties. They have them at Brebners. You just have to put those in the oven. A microwave, if you’re desperate or banned from oven use. Or so I’ve learned since we lost the money.”_ _ _

___“ _So_ generous.”_ _ _

___David cannot help the foot stomp that emerges at Patrick’s mocking tone. “I have been here _ALL_ day. I am incredibly generous.”_ _ _

___“You don’t have to come tomorrow, David.”_ _ _

___David closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, I do. because you will probably be made fun of for having an incredibly rude boyfriend who cannot be bothered to show up. I will not be known as the terrible boyfriend in this situation. _And_ your mom will be sad. And I do want to support you through your performance. Can you hear the applause?”_ _ _

___“Always.”_ _ _

___Other curlers, who are really nearly Disney on Ice Chimney Sweeps, come over to shake Patrick’s hand and make small talk. David tries to be personable, but mostly he rests his head on Patrick’s shoulder, tries to figure out how you could direct _Step-in-Time_ on ice and mumbles responses if asked a direct question._ _ _

___Eventually, David takes a turn around the cordoned off part of the lot searching for Alexis but she seems to have vanished. Considering her type is generally a dick with some sort of personality disorder attached to it, the possibilities of where she’s disappeared to are endless. Stevie and Rachel do not want to be interrupted. David can tell because they are in the grossest corner of the bar. He wanders back over to Patrick and drapes his arms over his boyfriend, shooting a knowing glance at Ken before pressing an open-mouth kiss to Patrick’s _general mouth area_. (David may need to practice landing the kiss while drunk)_ _ _

___David scritches at Patrick’s pecs, enjoying the feeling of muscle under his fingertips. Who knew accountants who like braided belts could have well defined pectorals._ _ _

___Patrick covers his hand, stilling David’s motions. David likes the press of Patrick’s hand on his, David’s hand wedged safely between the parts of Patrick. David works on focusing on his face instead of his chest, and finds a bright smile waiting for him. Patrick greets him with, “Hello. What’s wrong?”_ _ _

___David knows when he’s drunk, he becomes much more like his mother, verbose and wounded. “My ride has abandoned me. I have looked for Alexis and she’s vanished. Probably absconded with some rimy chimney sweep.”_ _ _

___Patrick’s brow furrows because he cares and doesn’t think David’s maudlin whining is ridiculous. “Do you want to call her? Make sure she’s okay?”_ _ _

___He does. Mostly because David is very used to his sister being anything but okay. But it’s been two years since they lost the money and two years and four months since he has had to lie to a consulate, or priority mail fake passports. “No. If my sister can outrun the Yakuza she can handle a curler from Toronto. I may be trapped here, though.” He drapes his chin over Patrick’s shoulder, sagging into Patrick._ _ _

___Patrick pats at his back and it’s all very soothing. “I’ll take you home.”_ _ _

___“No. No.” David pulls back but almost goes too far, and has to correct himself by holding onto Patrick’s shoulders rather than fall on his ass. “You’re doing…” David finds his balance and uses his hand to wave to find a word. “ _things_. I will go sit in a corner until you’re done.”_ _ _

___David leans the opposite way of the direction in which his hand is pointing. Patrick’s warm, broad hand keeps him from tipping over. David will not sit on the ground but surely there must be a chair out here somewhere? The old guys must have needed them and they should be on their way home now. There’s got to be a chair._ _ _

___“It’s okay. Early day tomorrow for me,” Patrick reminds him and David does his best not to cringe._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___Sometime after they make it home (David assumes Patrick drove and they didn’t just magically appear in the living room of David’s apartment), Patrick refuses a blowjob because David has a sloppy mouth (David never should have explained this to him on their third date) Instead,Patrick piles David with aspirin and water and tucks him in._ _ _

___David wakes hours later to a sandy mouth, empty bed and darkness. A faint glow is coming from his desk, and David blinks to find Patrick squinting at his own laptop, notebook spread out in front of him with no other lights but the monitor screen. He’s going to lose his vision and develop deep crow’s feet at this rate, particularly considering that David has been slowly talking Patrick into better skincare routines. But years have already been lost._ _ _

___“You should be asleep,” he mumbles at his boyfriend across the room._ _ _

___“Hey.” Patrick turns and smiles and points at the water stationed next to the bed. “You should have more water and then go back to sleep.”_ _ _

___“Why aren’t you asleep? Shouldn’t sports performers get a good night's sleep the night before.”_ _ _

___“Just filling in my stones spreadsheet from my notebook today. I need to think about which ones will be the best for guards and the best for curving.”_ _ _

___“Come to bed.”_ _ _

___David catches a glimpse of Patrick’s notebook before he closes it. There’s a whole bunch of chicken scratch notes that make zero sense and little arrows here and there. It must mean something . David loves Patrick’s hands, the broad square span of them, and whether they’re doing sports, calculating numbers or pulling back the covers, “Alright. My favorite stone is on Sheet Two anyway and that’s where we’re ending tomorrow. I’m saving stone 18 for one of my hammers.”_ _ _

___“You’ll hammer them hard.”_ _ _

___Patrick presses a kiss to David’s head. “You know, one day you are going to pitch your business plan to me when you’re not too drunk or high to make any sense.”_ _ _

___David stills, pausing in his burrowing into Patrick’s armpit. “What?”_ _ _

___He only thinks about his store idea occasionally, when the gallery gets boring and he cannot stretch himself any further. He’s not sure he’s even told Stevie. Probably also when he was high, if he told her at all._ _ _

___Patrick pulls David in closer. “I don’t know. Something about a general store but a very specific store and a coffee shop but there’s no coffee.”_ _ _

___“Oh.”_ _ _

___“Whatever you decide to do, David, you could make it beautiful.”_ _ _

___David isn’t sure anyone else has ever said anything like that to him before. He falls asleep with the same idea he has for astore— _his_ store— that he’s had for months, fresh in his mind. _ _ _

___If his mouth was a sandy beach when he woke in the middle of the night, now it’s an inland desert, with no water to be found. Everything in his room is too bright, despite the curtains being pulled tight. Something dragged him from the depths of sleep where he was dreaming about flying through space with Phoebe Waller-Bridge. He finds his phone buried underneath his pillow, which is vibrating up a storm. A lifetime of receiving weird calls from Alexis gives him the reflexes to answer without fumbling the phone._ _ _

___“Hey, handsome.” It’s Patrick, calling from the rink, maybe? David doesn’t remember him leaving._ _ _

___“Could you not yell?” David whimpers._ _ _

___“Sure. Just wanted to let you know that my mom is coming round to pick you up in forty-five minutes.”_ _ _

___David blinks, his eyes stinging slightly. “Ummm, what?”_ _ _

___“And you don’t have to choose much. You’ll wear your shirt— ”_ _ _

___David sits up in a panic. He last remembered stowing the shirt at the table during the final match yesterday after he’d nearly left it on the table from sheet two and been teased mercilessly. After the third match, David has no memory of any of his things._ _ _

___He whispers harshly into the phone, “I forgot the shirt!”_ _ _

___“Oh, I _got_ the shirt. It’s on the chair. Pair it with something nice.”_ _ _

___David hates that Patrick used the confident, raspy, very sexy bedroom voice for that. He doesn’t want to be turned on right now. Not when it’s too bright and he’s half queasy and he has to get up. David pinches the bridge of his nose. “You could have not asked her for this monstrosity.”_ _ _

___“Your sunglasses are on the bedside table. Have more water and aspirin. I’ll see you in a little bit.”_ _ _

___“Mmm,” David whines. “Forty-five minutes is barely enough time for my nine-step regimen. I should honestly do more because I don’t think I took care of it last night.”_ _ _

___“For whatever reason, no matter how shitfaced you are, you always take care of your face. Forty-five minutes.” There’s that sexy voice again and then the line goes dead._ _ _

___David flees from bed in a flurry of activity. He performs a rushed facial routine and pairing his white marbled jeans and leather jacket with the shirt his boyfriend just happened to save and bring home and his mid-calf combat boot Rick Owens. The shirt is ridiculous but the rest of him looks edgy, sexy. Serves Patrick right for the sexy voice on the phone. David packs a bag to bring with him, including more painkillers, a jacket to eventually place over the shirt, and a change of shoes. One never knows what the day will bring. In fact, he should get these boots re-waterproofed soon._ _ _

___Poking through the house shows no sign of Alexis, her room is a mess but there are no shoes haphazardly dropped by the door or a purse in the kitchen. She must have spent the night with someone. David does find a thermos of coffee, perfectly doctored, is waiting on the kitchen table with a lopsided-heart drawn on a sticky note attached to the side. Patrick is too sweet for words._ _ _

___He makes it into Marcy’s sedan within ten minutes of her pulling into the building’s lot. She has a home-made cranberry walnut muffin for him, because she’s an angel. David munches gratefully while they make their way to the rink. Marcy keeps the radio tuned to classic R &B and David hums all the way along with Tina, Aretha and Little Richard. When they get inside, Stevie and Rachel have already camped out in their morning spot and someone has gotten him a very lightly colored orange juice. The mimosa is a perfect cure for his hangover. Marcy has one of her own and they cheers. _ _ _

___During this weekend, David has considered his boyfriend’s team the worst dressed team out here, which is a point of continual disappointment for David. However, this morning the assault is not just coming from Team Brewer but also from the team they’re facing. At least Patrick has the sense to make his team a cohesive mass of hideousness._ _ _

___Team Ertlinger, however, is a mishmosh of awful. One man is wearing a scarf that would be fashionable if he was thirty years younger and not in a curling rink. Another has on a stained apron like he’s cooking in between ends. The third looks like he got dressed in the dark. But Ertlinger, who has gone out to shake Patrick’s hands, is wearing a very oddly patterned pair of pants._ _ _

___“Are those _radishes?_ ” David asks, lifting his sunglasses to get a better look at the color. _ _ _

___Marcy peers down to the rink with him, narrowing her eyes before leaning back and chuckling. “I think they’re supposed to be grapes, David. Herb owns a winery. A fruit winery. There’s probably cherries mixed in.”_ _ _

___David settles his glasses back down on his face and crosses his arms. “With pointy bits at the end where they should be round? I still say radish.”_ _ _

___A man who thought radishes were grapes and other fruit, had no business making fruit wine or selecting pants._ _ _

___“Sometimes, Herb uncorks his wine at the beer gardens after a bonspiel.” Silence stretches, and in the few months since he’s met Marcy Brewer, much like her son, she’s triesying to find a way to be diplomatic. Instead she just hums and says under her breath, “The beer is better.”_ _ _

___“The beer is Molsons,” David points out._ _ _

___Marcy looks at him and deadpans, “The beer is better.”_ _ _

___With that grim pronouncement, David picks up his mimosa that Stevie and Rachel were smart enough to get and gets ready for the start of this end. The more David watches the opposing team’s lead and his very flowy scarf, the more confident he is in Patrick’s chances._ _ _

___By the time the match ends with two blank ends and Patrick throwing the final hammer, Patrick’s team is victorious. Alexis wanders in just as the match ends, looking mostly refreshed, but David knows that the dress is one of the non-wrinkle ones she keeps in her bag for emergencies, along with the fresh black leggings._ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___David is thrilled that it is not only the last match of the weekend, but that he’s had another lunch of pizza to tide him over. A bonus for everyone is both Patrick’s and the opposing teams are hot. Very hot. Minus Gary because when he talks, it’s too much and not anything worth listening to, and there’s a kid on the opposing team who looks like a morlock who just crawled out of H.G. Wells’ _The Time Machine_. Derek’s main competition for lead is another tall drink of water that really looks like he can bear down hard, which remains David’s new favorite sports term. Instead of Derek’s clear sable skin, his competitor for lead is all warm undertones of peach skin. Also, the opposing team really seems to like beards, which David is not opposed to._ _ _

___Alexis is, predictably, glued to the plexiglass. “David.”_ _ _

___“I know.”_ _ _

___She glances over her shoulder at him, eyes very wide for someone who already had a lot of fun last night. At least David assumes she had fun last night. She’s been very cagey about answers and called him the FBI. “I mean, DA-VID.”_ _ _

___“Yes, I have eyes. My boyfriend is down there.” He hasn’t spent too much time looking because he doesn’t really need to. There are cute men, sure, but most of them are old, sad and don’t have Patrick’s very nice ass._ _ _

___“You can still look, David.”_ _ _

___Rachel comes back from the bar with a fresh round of drinks. She passes Stevie her beer and David has a plastic cup of wine. She takes a sip of her beer before tipping it towards the rink. “So, you should know, this last draw is pretty high stakes. Not just for the rankings here at the bonspiel, but also because Ted hates Dr. Miguel. They’re rival vets in the same neighborhood, and it’s a deep seated rivalry. Many ads in the paper, many Yelp reviews by loyal customers traded back and forth. Also, he doesn’t like Mutt much.” She points at the bearded fellow he saw Alexis following yesterday. She gestures at the person who happens to be paler than Patrick, “Eric’s fine. Pretty young and awkward. He’s Bob’s nephew.” Rachel pauses and smiles, tilting her head at David. “And then their coach is Ronnie.”_ _ _

___David’s eyes widen at that, and he gapes at Rachel. “Ronnie as in _Baseball Ronnie?_ ”_ _ _

___Alexis turns around rapidly, eavesdropping as always. “Who is Baseball Ronnie? Why is he a big deal?”_ _ _

___“She, first off,” David corrects, “and second she’s on a rival baseball team in Patrick’s league. They do _not_ get along.” _ _ _

___David had been briefed on these issues during baseball season and had even come up with a gift basket idea for Ronnie as a peace offering when Patrick had argued that _most_ baseball players are“somebody’s _son_ ,” completely ignoring Ronnie in the process. David had just looked at Patrick and rolled his eyes. He actually liked Ronnie. She was tough and took no nonsense, and David couldn’t figure out what she had against his boyfriend._ _ _

___David’s looking for her when someone else, tall, dark and lumberjack-chic catches his eye. His jaw drops a little. “Fuck, wait, Stevie. Is that...?”_ _ _

___Stevie nods and shrugs. There’s a tension in her mouth, where she is keeping her face entirely neutral. “I mean, he’s like a fungus: he’s everywhere and on everyone.”_ _ _

___“Yup.”_ _ _

___Rachel presses a kiss just behind Stevie’s ear. Her smile is a wide grin. She’s as much of a troll as Patrick is. “Another paramor?”_ _ _

___Stevie grimaces and shakes her head. “Paramor is a strong word.”_ _ _

___David grins, gleeful. Usually, things work out that Stevie and Patrick gang up on him, but sometimes he gets to turn on Stevie with Rachel, or on Patrick with Rachel. It’s a beautiful thing. “Before you, Stevie liked to call various handi-helpers to, you know, help around the building and _other places.”__ _ _

___Stevie just looks at him, giving him one slow blink. “You also benefited from Jake’s _helping hand.”__ _ _

___Alexis turns around again, her face frozen in a wide-mouthed look of glee. Her goddamned baby-of-the-family ears are like satellites. Alexis was always able to hear gossip three wings away growing up. “OH MY GOD! That’s throuple guy!”_ _ _

___David glares at Alexis and he really wished she wouldn’t have these conversations quite so close to Patrick’s mother. David hisses, “There was no throuple. There was a _suggested_ throuple and I said no, because that never ends well. Stop calling him that.”_ _ _

___Alexis’s face transforms into her evil grin. “Does Patrick know he’s throuple guy?”_ _ _

___David closes his eyes and lets his shoulders creep up to almost swallow his nick. “Swallow knives, please.”_ _ _

___“I did that once. It’s not that bad,” Alexis answers, flipping her hair over her shoulder._ _ _

___“Ughh!!” David chugs the last of his wine and does not throw his glass at his sister._ _ _

___“David,” Alexis said, hitting him. “you just have to do this thing with your throat where you open it. And just lean back. David!” She hits him again when he doesn’t respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Alexis’s head is tilted back._ _ _

___“Slush Puppie?” Stevie asks._ _ _

___“No.” Slush Puppies are of the devil and he will not be corrupted again. Wine or whiskey in cider is about all he has taste for now._ _ _

___David has a vague sense of how this works now. Rachel’s drinking game has been immeasurably helpful in paying attention to points and how to tell if an end is going well or not. There’s a definite tension, particularly when it looks like Dr. Miguel’s team burns a stone and no one says anything. Patrick’s shoulders hike up to just underneath his ears and Marcy leans closer to the glass, lips pursed tight._ _ _

___No one calls over the judges and Rachel huffs loudly, her hands diving into her armpits. She shakes her head, ponytail wavering. “Assholes. It’s okay. Everyone knows the Men with Brooms rule.”_ _ _

___Alexis nods her head while placing a hand on Rachel’s arm. “Okay. Yes. But let’s pretend everyone doesn’t know the Men with Brooms rule. Remind us again?”_ _ _

___“You can’t be serious.” Rachel looks over her shoulder to look at David and Stevie for help. David is pretty sure Stevie’s face is as blank as he is sure his own is. Rachel’s eyes widen like saucers. “Wait? Have none of you seen _Men with Brooms_? You’re all Canadian. I may have to revoke your citizenship.”_ _ _

___Stevie snorts. “You can take my citizenship. I’ll just go off the grid.”_ _ _

___Alexis does that annoyed squint she does at Rachel, her fingers appear to dig into Rachel’s arm from where David’s sitting. “Mmm. Yes. Okay. Fine, but first, _Men with Brooms_?”_ _ _

___“Okay, in the classic Canadian film Men with Brooms, their Rink is cursed after the team burns a rock and the skip doesn’t call it. They lose the championship bonspiel and fracture and they cannot recover until the skip fixes the error by calling his burned rock.”_ _ _

___“So…”_ _ _

___“So, Rink Sanchez should have called the burned rock like Patrick did yesterday. They deserve to lose this match.”_ _ _

___With the burned rock still sitting on the ice, Patrick does his best to skipper around it. David can see how it’s kind of like sailing, needing to negotiate around troublesome spots. The mostly attractive Team Sanchez takes that round, but David catches Ronnie scowling with her arms folded and glaring at the ice lane. She probably also agrees with Rachel’s assessment about the men with brooms rules._ _ _

___The next three ends are particularly tense. Patrick manages to take back the next round with the hammer. David finds himself leaning forward and watching the game intently as Patrick’s brow furrows with wrinkles, even from this distance. He steals points when the other team has the hammer. David now knows too many things about this sport, and his boyfriend’s sexual yelling at other men only vaguely helps._ _ _

___Last night he was too drunk to enjoy this particular energy and Patrick was too focused on analyzing stones to analyze David. Tonight, he’ll get Patrick to study some other stones._ _ _

___By the end, they’re all standing applauding when the points are counted after the last stone is thrown. Rink Brewer takes the end, the match, and when things are finally calculated, they have the best score of the weekend. David is swept downstairs among a sea of people and out into the parking lot. The teams are already assembled, beer is already flowing._ _ _

___David doesn't particularly want to make conversation with anyone here. He weaves through, carefully avoiding Ray and the man with radish pants handing out wine, and finds Patrick next to Ronnie._ _ _

___Ronnie lifts two fingers from the drink in her hand to point at Patrick. “You owe my team some drinks."_ _ _

___"Don't worry, I have honor."_ _ _

___"Mmm. We'll see you next time, Brewer, and we’ll just see how that goes.” Ronnie looks over Patrick’s shoulder and catches David’s eye, brushing past Patrick. Patrick turns to follow Ronnie’s gaze. Ronnie pauses by David, and delivers her parting words, “Have a good evening, David. Good luck fitting his head in the car._ _ _

___Patrick smiles brightly as David approaches. David puts both hands on Patrick's shoulders and rubs. "My conquering hero.”_ _ _

___“It was a close one.” Patrick pulls at the lapels of his jacket and smirks. “I think you look very cute in that shirt.”_ _ _

___David’s mouth crinkles and crawls half up the left side of his face. “That’s a given. I just had an even sexier look planned for today and _now_ I’m wearing vinyl cutouts.”_ _ _

___Patrick smiles and David feels tingly. He’s never had anyone who wanted to stay this long. As much as David is not a sports person, he doesn’t regret a second of this weekend in exchange for that smile. “I think you look very sexy. The choice of pants was excellent.” Patrick leans in and presses his lips just below David’s ear. “They highlight certain attributes.”_ _ _

___David smirks, burying his head in Patrick’s neck. Curling is not the worst sport, because Patrick still smells like David’s body wash from this morning. He does agree with Patrick’s assessment of his pants. The dark marbling on these jeans is perfectly placed, creating negative space in an area of relief. It draws the eye and heightens interest. Not that Patrick has ever had anything less than interest in the areas of relief in David’s pants. “Something has to make up for this shirt.”_ _ _

___Patrick pulls back and David can just make out the heated glint in his eyes. “You know I like it.”_ _ _

___David smirks, and lifts his hand to wave general circles in the air. “I do. Something with the sports. I hear there’s a whole movie on it.”_ _ _

___“On what? Sports?” Patrick asks with a chuckle._ _ _

___David blinks at Patrick. He points at the building they just came from. “Curling. _Men with Brooms?”__ _ _

___“You’ve never seen _Men with Brooms?”_ Patrick asks, wide-eyed and bewildered, blinking widely at him. _ _ _

___David wrinkles his nose and recoils. “No. Why would I?”_ _ _

___When Patrick says his name, it’s a sigh. “David. It’s a romantic comedy.”_ _ _

___David purses his lips and narrows his eyes, picking at Patrick’s sweater with careful pinches. “Umm, I don’t know if I trust the opinion of someone who thinks that _Star Wars_ is romantic.” _ _ _

___“It’s in line with things like _Fever Pitch_ or _How Do You Know_ except _better.”__ _ _

___“Mmmhmm,” David agrees to end the conversation. Those movies are romantic comedies that involve sports and David has agreed to allow Patrick to choose._ _ _

___“Come on. Or _Speed._ We’ve watched _Speed.”_ _ _ _

___David shudders and rolls his eyes. It’s his turn to look at Patrick with incredulous eyes. “ _Men with Brooms_ **cannot** be _Speed.”__ _ _

___“It’s a romantic comedy. It says so right on the box.” Patrick mimes holding up a video box and points at the imaginary box in his hand._ _ _

___“Enough. I’ll give you a twenty minute screener and we’ll see.”_ _ _

___“We’ll watch the whole thing and you will love it. It’s got everything, drama, love, family. Promise. You’ll love it.”_ _ _

___Patrick presses a warm kiss to David’s lips and lets his tongue slip between David’s lips and sweep across his mouth. It’s foolish, really, that Patrick remains the longest relationship he’s ever had and David still goes a little weak in the knees when they kiss. His hands grasp Patrick’s shoulders as their tongues tangle. He supposes it’s not the worst thing, to have to go out to sporting events, because he didn’t set the tone right away for kisses like these. He’ll go to the hockey games and sit through another round of drinking at curling and make it to the next round of baseball in the spring for a man who looks at David with stars in his eyes._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - Team Brewer - Patrick (Skip), Ted (Third), Gary(Second), Derek (Lead)
> 
> 6 - Team Butani - Roland (Lead), Ray (Skip), Bob (Second), Ivan (Third)
> 
> 2- Team Dr. Miguel Sanchez - Dr. Miguel (Skip), Jake (Lead), Eric (Second), Mutt (Third)
> 
> 5 - Team Kaplan - Emir (Skip), Ken (third), Antonio(Second), Citrus (Lead)
> 
> 3 -Team Ertlinger - Herb (Skip), Dick Sinson, George (Third), Artie (Lead)
> 
> 4 - Team Currie - Carl (skip), Cal (third), Albert, Benny 
> 
> Draw 1 - 10 -12  
> Team 1 x Team 6  
> Team 2 x team 5  
> Team 3 x Team 4
> 
> Draw 2 - 2 - 4  
> Team 5 x Team 3  
> Team 4 x Team 1  
> Team 2 x Team 6
> 
> Draw 3 - 5-7  
> Team 4 x Team 6  
> Team 2 x Team 3  
> Team 1 x Team 5
> 
> 8 PM  
> Bonspiel Beer Garden
> 
> Sunday  
> Draw 4 - 10 - 12  
> Team 1 x Team 3  
> Team 4 x Team 2  
> Team 6 x Team 5
> 
> Draw 5 - 2 -4  
> Team 4 x Team 5  
> Team 6 x Team 3  
> Team 1 x Team 2
> 
> 5 PM  
> Bonspiel Beer Garden


End file.
